Transcendence
by Quatre-sama
Summary: What if sparks flew between Michael & Kei? shounen ai/yaoi warning *spoilers for anything through ep. 68*


Warnings: OOC. language. shounen ai. Spoilers up through episode 68 (?) citrus-y.  
  
Disclaimer: Marmalade Boy belongs to, Wataru-kun. Kei is Ribon's, Michael is, ahh... the anime company's.   
  
**Notes: I do NOT think the Michael/Kei pairing is canon. This is my own take on a possibility in the MB world. Yes, I think they'd look stunning together, but I hardly think it'd be likely (at least, not if Suzu or Miki isn't involved!)  
  
This fic is dedicated to Lilias-who has been suggesting it for a while now. There, jiejie! Yours and my favorite boys   
having a go at it!   
  
// - denote italics  
  
Transcendence   
by Quatre-sama  
  
Anju and I walked back to the campsite in silence. I couldn't erase the mental image of Miki kissing that guy. The way her arms were wrapped around his neck, her body pressed so close to his. It was like something out of a romantic movie.  
  
It was something I wanted. This trip was supposed to be special. Miki had been so happy earlier in the day; we'd had fun together. She called me Kei. But I had to be fooling myself if I thought that she wasn't thinking of Matsuura the whole time.  
  
I couldn't compete. I was surprised that I'd been given a chance in the first place. And I'd blown it, trying to get her to kiss me, to tell me she loved me. I was a fool for thinking she could ever feel that way, that I could ever take his place in her affections. Why had Michael put the crazy notion of kissing her in my head? Was it part of his plan? Did he want to swoop in before Matsuura could win her back?  
  
No. He wasn't like that. He'd always been honest and straight to the point. He'd never been remotely devious in all the time I'd known him.  
  
We reached the edge of the campsite and Anju stopped. She looked at me, concern etched on her face. She smiled wistfully and reached out to gently touch my shoulder--comfort? I refused to fake anything.  
  
I mumbled a good night and headed into my tent.  
  
Miki's and my tent.   
  
I kicked off my shoes and flopped onto my bedroll, staring at her bags, her blankets. Her pillow was pink, and covered with little brown bears. It was cute, and so much like everything I loved about her. I wondered if it was her favorite pillow. If she'd had it since she was a little girl.  
  
I wondered where she'd be sleeping once she returned. Would she move her stuff into Matsuura's tent? Would she come back sheepishly, flushed and apologetic and beautiful in a way that's unique to Koishikawa Miki?  
  
I buried my face in my pillow, trying to force her out of my mind. I could hear muffled voices outside the nylon walls of my tent. Anju and Michael. She was probably telling him what happened.  
  
After a few minutes, Michael popped his head into the tent. "Hey. You okay?"  
  
I rolled over onto my back, covering my eyes with my forearm. "No." I wanted him to leave.  
  
He sat down on the end of my sleeping bag. "We both lost, huh? Welcome to my world. Sucks, doesn't it?"  
  
He clearly wasn't leaving, so I nodded. "What's worse--losing to him or me?"  
"You." He didn't even take a minute to think it over. "I was wrong about him, Kei. He's not a bad guy."  
  
"And I am?" I moved my arm, glaring at him in the dim light of the lantern.  
  
Michael ducked his head, blushing slightly. "That's not what I meant. I just--I mean... I always felt that you and I were on equal footing for Miki. Losing to you felt worse than when I first found out that Miki and Yuu were together."  
  
I sat up, leaning close to him. "Why?" Hadn't he had that same miserable feeling in the pit of his stomach when he first saw them together? Was it just me? Or did he get that same feeling when Miki chose me?  
  
He shrugged, smiling. "You were my rival. Yuu was always way ahead of me--in school, how long he knew Miki, everything. I could relate to you better--that's why I could talk to you about her, go on that date to Wonder Dog with the both of you." He looked as if he wanted to say more, but looked away. "How would you have felt if she picked me instead?" His voice was low and soft. Very unlike him.  
  
"I'd've been pissed."  
  
His wide eyes snapped up to meet mine; he looked a little surprised.  
  
I continued. "I knew her first. I changed my whole life because of her. But, had she picked you, I wouldn't have been able to be such a supportive friend to her, like you have."  
  
He smiled his contagious grin. "If I didn't know better, I'd think that was a compliment."  
  
I shrugged. "It is." I meant it. Somehow, despite Miki's choice, Michael had decided to be my friend. He'd given me advice about Miki and Matsuura. He'd been so mature about giving up on her. I wondered if I could do that--if I could be as mature as this guy who usually acted like a kid.  
  
He watched me mutely for a long time before he spoke again. "So, did you get a chance to kiss her?"  
  
I shook my head solemnly.  
  
He made a "tsk"-ing sound. "It's a shame. She's good."  
  
My heart skipped a beat. He'd kissed Miki? I tried to fight the jealousy in the pit of my stomach.  
  
Michael leaned closer, grinning again. "What's worse--the idea of Yuu kissing her, or me?"  
  
My mind flashed to the too concrete image of Miki in Matsuura's arms--I didn't linger on the idea. Instead, I conjured an image of her with Michael--him wrapping his arms around her waist, leaning over her with his hair falling over his face...   
  
My stomach twisted. "You. Definitely you."  
  
He laughed, reaching up to push a lock of hair out of my eyes. "See? Every cloud has its silver lining. Losing Miki sucks--but it'd be worse if she'd chosen me instead of Yuu."  
  
I nodded grudgingly. The mental image came back to me, making me shudder involuntarily. It would've been a lot worse.  
  
Michael sighed and drew his knees up to his chest, hiding his eyes in the shadow of his ball cap like a little kid. He frowned slightly and looked as though he wanted to say something, but again he held back.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
He looked away, fidgeting with his socks. "You know, when I remember that day we went to Wonder Dog, I don't think about how hard I was trying to impress Miki, or how shocked I was when she chose you." He paused, looking up at me with his huge, blue eyes. "I remember how much fun it was to compete with you, and the neat stories and stuff you would tell when we were waiting in line for the rides. I like your company."   
  
Something in his voice, or eyes, or maybe his words made my heart beat a little faster. I didn't understand it, but I liked the feeling.  
  
He licked his lips nervously. "Can we become better friends? I mean, I'm going back to New York really soon, but I wouldn't mind spending my last few weeks with you."  
  
Before I had even a chance to fully understand what he was saying, he'd moved closer, his lips catching mine in an aggressive kiss. I pushed against him desperately, but he wouldn't back off. A heartbeat later I was confused about whether or not I even wanted him to. My heart kept racing and my stomach was doing flip-flops. I'd never felt quite like this--not even when I had been about to kiss Miki. I didn't know if it was loneliness moving me, or maybe some deep-seated attraction to the undeniably beautiful boy kissing me, but I suddenly stopped struggling and let my eyes shut, reeling in the giddy sensation of his mouth against mine. I eased his lips apart, eagerly sliding my tongue along his. He responded fervently--and skillfully. I'd never kissed anyone so experienced; Michael had clearly done this before.  
  
He broke the kiss and pulled away breathlessly. Reluctantly, I opened my eyes to meet his pale blue gaze.  
  
When he spoke, his voice was rough with emotion. "Can we? Be friends, I mean?" He raised his eyebrows when he said "friends." His eyes flickered back and forth, looking for confirmation.  
  
I swallowed the lump in my throat. Did I even know what he was asking, what we were doing? I thought of the tears that had streamed over Miki's cheeks at the idea of kissing me, of how different the glow was in Michael's eyes and cheeks as his gaze caressed me. Of how soft and yielding his mouth had been. Could we be--friends? "Y-yes."  
  
He let out a relieved sigh and grinned at me. "I was almost sure you'd kick me out," he said softly. Shifting so he was sitting cross-legged before me, he took my hands in his and let them rest on his bare calves. The contact made me shiver. "I'm glad you didn't."  
  
I ran my thumbs over his narrow hands, examining him carefully. He was attractive and I'd always been aware of it--but his good looks had always been a threat to me before. Now I was given a chance to sit back and appreciate his almost fey appearance. "How long?" I asked. I couldn't help but feel a little baffled and confused by the turn of events.  
  
"How long what? How long have I liked you? How long have I liked guys? What?"  
  
I snorted. "Both."  
  
He licked his lips and spoke haltingly. "I liked you from the moment I saw you playing the piano*. But you liked Miki--and so did I, for that matter. But I've liked guys for as long as I can remember. Gender doesn't mean much to me."  
  
I couldn't totally comprehend it, personally, but I nodded for him to continue.  
  
"Why limit who you love?" he asked with a sheepish smile.  
  
I couldn't look away from the tiny twist of his lips. How had I missed it for so long? I yanked him toward me, kissing his soft mouth again. I didn't know what it all meant--was he something I'd wanted subconsciously all along? Was I using him to rebound from Miki's rejection?  
  
All I knew was that every time I touched him, I could hear music in my head.  
His tongue swirled around mine and drove me mad. I knocked the white baseball cap off of his head, allowing my fingers to delve through his hair; it was softer and finer than I would've imagined. I slid my hands down the back of his neck, massaging gently. He moaned quietly and gripped my vest. Opening my eyes, I was able to see his dark, long lashes against his pale cheeks.  
I wanted more. I wanted to touch him, to hold him. I wanted to make him feel as wonderful as he was making me feel.  
  
I pushed him gently, not breaking the kiss, and he shifted to accommodate me. I pressed my body against his and he yielded, lying back on the bedroll. I was stretched over him, propped up on my forearms, and I could feel how excited he was. I moved my lips to his earlobe, sucking and nibbling gently as his fingers clawed at my t-shirt, un-tucking it from my pants.   
  
His hands slipped under the thin material, cold against my hot flesh. Winding his arms around my back, he pulled me impossibly closer; one leg twined itself around mine, grinding our hips together. I gasped at the heat that coursed through my body.  
  
"Oh, God," Michael whispered in English. He leaned his head back into my pillow, closing his eyes as I tasted his neck and collarbone.  
  
"You like that?" I murmured, moving back up to his lips again.  
  
He gazed at me through his dark eyelashes, nodding slightly. "You?" His hands moved up to my chest, touching and exploring and no doubt feeling my accelerated heart rate.  
  
I nodded and he grinned at me. Somehow he still looked like a kid. I wondered if any of this was new territory for him. And was I meeting his expectations?   
  
Pulling his hands out from beneath my shirt, he pushed back on my shoulders, holding me away from him. "Are you thinking about her?"  
  
I was caught off-guard by his question and unable to resist when he suddenly rolled over, flipping us so that I was pinned beneath him.  
  
Was I thinking about her? I wasn't. I hadn't been thinking about Miki for a long time--not even to wonder what would happen if she walked in while I was sprawled all over Michael. "No," I answered truthfully.  
  
He looked down at me, a satisfied smirk on his face. "This is better." His English phrase was accompanied by a reckless grin. He straddled my abdomen and his hands slid under my shirt again. My eyelids felt heavy but I refused to let them drop, wanting to see every moment, every nuance of his expression, even as he dropped light kisses over my cheeks.  
  
The sight of him--flushed, disheveled, and sitting on me--was enough to make me ache with desire. I'd never wanted anyone this badly. I pulled him down to me for a longer kiss, simultaneously easing the indigo sweatshirt off of him. When he broke the kiss altogether, I whisked it over his head and tossed it aside.  
  
I was pleased with his body--no, I was delighted with it. He was lean without begin waifish; athletic muscles tightened his arms and shoulders. I was fascinated by the contrast of his bulky khaki shorts next to the smooth expanse of his chest and stomach. I wanted to run my fingers over the sensitive flesh above his belt loops.  
  
I reached up to touch him, but he laughed and grasped my wrists, steering my hands away. He leaned backward a bit, pulling me into an upright sitting position. His hands immediately fell to my shirt, tugging in frustration as he nudged at my vest. I began licking and sucking on his collarbone, surprised and delighted at the tiny noises that came from deep in his throat.   
  
"'S my weak spot," he gasped. He finally pushed my vest off of my shoulders, swiftly following it up with the hasty removal of my shirt. Then I held him close to me, skin against skin as we fell back onto the bedroll.  
  
I'd never really held anyone except Miki; Michael's frame was much wider, much more solid. I'd only kissed one girl before; I was a little overwhelmed by this sudden intimacy. But I certainly liked it. And I liked that it was Michael in my arms, as nervous as it made me. I enjoyed the little English phrases he whispered in my ears, half of which I didn't understand. I loved his hands--the way they seemed out of proportion, impossibly large for his body. But his eyes   
affected me the most--those pale blue eyes fringed with long, dark lashes that were capable of making me forget my own name.  
  
"Is something wrong?" he asked, cocking his head to one side quizzically.  
  
I had been staring at him. "Not at all," I assured him, kissing his collarbone and the base of his neck.  
  
"Hey," he protested half-heartedly. He gently pulled back, denying me access to his skin. "Enough," he scolded softly, smiling playfully once again. "For you," he murmured before running his tongue down my sternum.  
  
//For You?//  
  
I closed my eyes, thoroughly enjoying his ministrations, but mentally turning the English phrase over in my head. I had named the piano piece "For You." It had been for Miki--something to show her how much I cared, since my words and   
actions had never seemed to do my feelings justice.  
  
I gazed at the top of Michael's head, at the brassy locks of hair falling across my chest. He was moving downward, graceful fingers unbuckling my belt. Perhaps this was the only way he knew to describe his feelings.  
  
"Michael," I said softly. Suddenly it was urgent that I understood him completely.  
  
He froze.  
  
"Look at me."  
  
He sat up and peered at me through his long, disheveled hair. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked, his voice low and expression cautious.  
  
I motioned for him to move off of me and I sat up. Our shoulders brushed and he visibly shied away. He picked up his shirt and turned it right-side-out; he avoided my eyes.  
  
"I-I don't want you to leave," I said quickly.  
  
He looked back at me with a startled glance. "You don't?"  
  
I crawled over to him and kissed him soundly. After a moment he pushed me away, his eyes filled with confusion.   
  
"Then, what...?"  
  
Brushing his hair off of his forehead, I swallowed nervously. "I think I... I want you to stay here tonight." Taking a deep breath, I continued. "I think I want to sleep with you." I averted my eyes, feeling self-conscious and shy.  
  
"No." Michael's voice was firm. Our eyes met, and his expression was stubborn and determined. "I've got four weeks, Kei. If you want to fuck and run, it'll have to be another time, because I don't want to spend my last month here wishing I could be with you again, knowing it was just a one-time thing." He gulped, not looking away. "I want you to like me--not just use me as your rebound." Leaning his hands on my knees, he kissed me slowly, his eyes open and exploring me as much as his tongue was. Finally, he clenched them shut and broke the kiss. He reminded me of Miki, as if his emotions might burst out on their own if he didn't express them. "Kei, I want you to be able to ask me something like that without looking terrified."  
  
Suddenly I thought of Miki's tears when I had moved to kiss her. She'd seemed absolutely terrified of kissing me because she still loved Matsuura. Was I feeling the same thing with Michael? No. I was desperate for contact, for the reassurance of his skin, but I couldn't be ready for anything so extreme. I was foolish for asking, but I still needed something.  
  
"Will you stay, though? And just sleep here?"  
  
He examined me closely for a moment before answering with a nod. He leaned his forehead against mine, his eyes dancing. "And don't think I don't want to do more," he whispered with a husky laugh. "I'm just more of a gentleman than you."  
  
I snorted and extinguished the light. Michael's hands found their way to my waist in the darkness, pulling me down to the sleeping bag. Before my eyes could adjust to the dimness, I was able to feel his breath on my cheek. It was comforting. I turned toward him and he reached out to touch my face. I thought that maybe he was someone I could grow to love. Maybe.  
  
"So, one month?" I asked him. "A lot can change in a month."   
  
He smiled at me. "You think?" He scooted closer, close enough that our foreheads and knees were touching. "Of course, I could always look into coming back for another year of study, or maybe a visit after graduation."  
  
I thought of the excellent music schools in America. Somehow Julliard and Eastman seemed a little more promising to me, a little less distant. Maybe things in the coming month would change my life; maybe they wouldn't. But I couldn't keep dwelling on the loss of a girl I never really had when there was an opportunity to have something that could become even more special.  
  
His breathing changed gradually as he fell asleep. He didn't look angelic or necessarily beautiful-he was just your average, slumbering 16-year-old boy. But he was with me, in my bed. He was nothing short of amazing.  
  
I gave him a chaste kiss. "I'm going to try, Michael," I whispered. "No promises, but I think it just might work."  
  
I closed my eyes only to conjure an image of his--smiling laughing, happy eyes that had turned my miserable evening into something worth remembering for the rest of my life.  
  
As I drifted off to sleep, I thought of Miki kissing Matsuura by the waterfall. I wondered if this nervous excitement was what she felt whenever she was with him. And I couldn't be angry or hurt if that was the case.   
  
Anju was right; I needed time. But maybe now it was time for someone else.  
  
the end  
  
  
*If you watch the piano concerto contest episode again, you'll discover that, with a Michael + Kei-oriented disposition,   
there is quite a lot of yummy stuff going on. Michael's rivalry can easily be turned into interest. 


End file.
